


i've been drowning in you

by nowayout



Category: Electronic Dance Music RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, they're dumb what's new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 04:40:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11890227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowayout/pseuds/nowayout
Summary: They’re working on a summer song in the middle of the winter, and Anton can see himself falling down the rabbit hole, helpless and willing all at once, and it’s fine because Liam’s smile is warm like the sun in July, and for a moment everything makes perfect sense.





	i've been drowning in you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liamfeatzedd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liamfeatzedd/gifts).



> For Babybel and Andrea. I would say sorry for dragging you into this except I'm not sorry at all :D Thank you for putting up with my ramblings about these terrible, wonderful boys over the past... many, many months. I hope you enjoy :)

He remembers falling asleep to the sound of soft laughter and early 2000s R&B as the sun was beginning to say hello and the post-show adrenaline was waving goodbye, making room for a half-formed thought about there being only one bed in the room and how he was hoping that wouldn’t be a problem. It turns out it wasn’t, if Liam’s face squished against the pillow next to his is anything to go by.

 

And that’s – not exactly unexpected. Where else was Liam supposed to sleep after all, the bed was more than big enough for both of them, befitting the typical Las Vegas opulence, and after that one time in the summer when they crashed out on the small couch in the studio it’s not like waking up next to each other with hair pointing in all directions and still wearing last night’s clothes could even be considered a novelty, and –

 

It’s entirely possible he’s still half drunk. Or half asleep, not like there’s much of a difference at this point. He just hopes he wasn’t rambling out loud.

 

Liam’s still got his eyes closed, his breathing deep but quiet, so at least there’s that. Actually, no. If he’s already awake, it’s only fair that Liam should suffer with him too.

 

Later, he’ll blame his actions on his not-sober, not-awake state and admit there are better ways of doing this. If he’s being completely honest, he knows he’ll also spend a couple minutes asking himself what the hell. But right now he doesn’t care; all that registers is the slight pout on Liam’s lips and his furrowed brows, and, just like last night at the club, suddenly he feels the need to – touch. To make sure Liam is there, solid and tangible, because the whole night felt surreal somehow and the feeling doesn’t seem to want to go away. So he pokes Liam in the cheek –  once, twice – until warm brown eyes, a little confused and bleary, settle on his face. Light sleeper.

 

“Thought you had a plane to catch.”

 

Liam’s wide-eyed reaction at that would be funnier to witness if it lasted longer than three seconds, but as he’s flailing his arms around, trying to jump out of bed and getting tangled in the sheets instead, he catches a glimpse of the watch on his wrist and breathes out what can only be a sigh of relief. He flops back down onto the bed with a groan, turning his head to the side. He’s pouting again.

 

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Liam asks, exaggerated pout slowly turning into a disarmingly sincere smile that keeps growing, growing, growing. “Just say you want me gone, Anton.”

 

He really doesn’t. The opposite, more like. And maybe he’s still high on last night’s show and the energy coming from the crowd when Liam got up on stage, and he might also be a little bit in awe of the ease with which Liam took over and saved him from a not-insignificant mishap and then stayed by his side throughout the whole set, singing and dancing and hyping up everyone who was watching them in that moment, because what he’d really like to say is how he thinks they should do that again. Go back to all their past conversations about a possible collaboration and steer them towards a direction of certainty, point out how amazing the response to their impromptu performance was, how well they work together, how easy it would be to just –

 

Get ahead of himself, apparently. Again. Yeah, he tends to be pretty good at that. He should probably ask Liam how he feels about actually working on a song together before planning their next however many performances. Then again, as far as he knows Liam has so much on his plate already, it’s possible that he couldn’t start working on another project even if he wanted to. Liam getting excited every time they flirted with the idea of working together still is no guarantee that those plans would ever become anything more than a blurry picture of a maybe-someday.

 

He just doesn’t want to get his hopes up for nothing, that’s all.

 

“What I want,” he says instead, absentmindedly patting Liam’s hip because he’s running on two hours of sleep and no caffeine, “is food. And coffee.”

 

“And coffee,” Liam agrees around a yawn, rubbing the sleep from his eyes like an overgrown toddler.

 

It’s – strangely endearing.

 

“So much coffee,” Anton mumbles to himself, reaching for the phone to order room service and promising himself not to think about anything in particular until his mind is fully awake and functioning properly.

 

It’s about thirty seconds into their breakfast that his plans to let his mind catch up peacefully with his body go straight to hell, because Liam, bright-eyed and contagiously excited, starts gushing about the show, about how great Anton’s set was and how much fun he had being back on stage even if only for a few minutes, joy radiating from every word and every slightly chaotic hand movement. And the thing is, it shouldn’t be overwhelming anymore. Anton likes to believe he’s pretty used to Liam’s brand of enthusiasm by now, eager and passionate and sometimes uncontrollable. But this time it’s his own anticipation getting in the mix too, bubbling under his skin and making him impatient, because Liam is unknowingly confirming they’re on the same page here, and there’s only so many times he can nod in agreement and smile at Liam’s undisguised exuberance without feeling like he’s about to burst if he doesn’t say something soon.

 

So after the fourth time Liam says a variation of _man, we have to do that again_ , Anton just blurts out, “Come see me next time you’re in LA,” and hopes for the best.

 

Liam blinks at him a couple of times. “I – okay?” he chuckles, the corners of his mouth turning up into a small, somewhat confused smile.

 

“I meant, come to the studio,” Anton tries again, wishing he had said that the first time and wishing he didn’t care that he hadn’t. “I have some stuff I’m working on, I thought we could – you know. If you want to have a listen, I mean. You don’t have to if you d–”

 

“I want to!” And there it is again, the wide, wide smile that makes a dimple appear in Liam’s left cheek and his eyes light up as if they were filled with little stars. “Are you joking, last night was the most fun I’ve had in months, of course I want to. Haven’t I been saying for the last half hour that we should perform together again? I wasn’t exactly being subtle,” he adds with a bashful giggle. “I’m in LA next week, when do you want me to drop by?”

 

Oh. That’s – soon. Anton does a quick mental recap of his own schedule for the following days, even though he already knows he won’t have the time to go through the tracks he’s working on first and pick out a few that could fit Liam’s style. But Liam is looking at him with eyes that are bright and hopeful, and, really, why the hell not, they can figure it all out together. It’s perfect, actually.

 

“You know what,” he says, smiling back at Liam because he can’t help it, “just call or text me or whatever when you’re free and we’ll take it from there, that sound okay?”

 

Liam nods, grinning so hard that his cheeks bunch up, warm eyes crinkling at the corners. And it feels like they’re back at the club, happiness coming off of Liam in waves, so intense it’s almost tangible, that bubble of infectious and inescapable energy Liam seems to be living in when he’s on a stage taking shape once more even here and now, pulling Anton in all over again. In retrospect, he thinks he might actually be grateful his laptop died on him.

 

“About last night,” he starts, remembering the euphoric relief of watching something that could have gone terribly wrong turn out perfectly right, “thanks for coming up there and saving me. And, you know. The whole show. Would’ve been pretty embarrassing without you there.”

 

Liam chuckles softy, rubbing the back of his neck. “Come on, man, you thanked me last night like, six times. And it’s not like I –” He shakes his head and looks down quickly, all of a sudden very interested in his glass of orange juice, and maybe it’s just the morning light playing tricks, but there seems to be a dusting of pink on his cheeks. “It was fun for me too. Kept saying it, didn’t I, and – I meant it, you know.”

 

It’s charming, Liam’s modesty. Honest and vulnerable. But something about the tone of Liam’s voice and the way he keeps his head down makes Anton feel like there’s more to it, so he files away the image of wide eyes and flushed cheeks and tells himself he’s going to come back to it later, when he knows more, when he knows enough to try and work out why something about it is bothering him.

 

“I know you did,” he says, hesitating only for a second before grabbing Liam’s shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. He keeps his hand there until Liam looks up again and smiles.

 

/ / /

 

His phone is full of pictures and videos from last night. Liam is right there in all of them, laughing and singing and beaming like he’s having the time of his life.

 

They should be shared, he thinks, looking through their selfies. There’s too much happiness in each and every one for them not to be seen by anyone except him and Liam. But a part of him begins to feel weirdly possessive and a little selfish the longer he looks at Liam’s crinkly-eyed smile, like those memories were meant to be kept – not secret, but safe. Protected. Like the moments seen from the angle of their own phone cameras belonged to them and no one else.

 

In the end, he posts a picture of them together taken by the club photographer and then sends out a thank you tweet that he hopes is the right balance between genuine gratitude and having a laugh at his own expense and bad luck.  

 

A few hours later he gets a text from Liam, and it’s just three rows of the blushing emoji, but. It feels important.  

 

/ / /

 

The day Liam calls to ask if they can meet up is supposed to be a no-work, fun-only day since Anton has friends from Germany visiting and studio time is not part of the plan in any way. He still tells Liam to come over. Does it again when Liam mentions he just got out of a meeting and he’s with some people from his team, and, really, they could just leave it for tomorrow, it’s fine, not a problem at all.

 

Anton rolls his eyes in amusement as he listens to Liam come up with a string of pretexts and explanations as to why it’s probably better to wait anyway, pretending not to understand that what Liam actually means is that he doesn’t want to be a bother. He tries to keep the smile out of his voice as he dodges every half-baked excuse, insisting that Liam should just bring along whoever he’s with until Liam relents with a little sigh, followed by a relatively self-assured “Be right there.” It sounds like he’s smiling too.

 

He knows they won’t get anything done, but he prefers to catch up first anyway. Just be around Liam for a while, figure out his state of mind. It’s not as if he’s suddenly going to stop enjoying Liam’s company as a friend just because they’re getting serious about working together, and – it should be cool, having Liam there to hang out with his old friends too. Should be fun.

 

Still, he can’t help feeling relieved to see how nothing changes once Liam arrives with a couple of people from his team. Introductions are made and drinks are passed around, and the afternoon feels the same, carefree and almost adolescent, with too many pizza boxes to count and dumb jokes that don’t always make sense. Nothing changes except for how Anton catches himself paying more attention to Liam than anyone else, but that – that’s normal, isn’t it. He just wants to make sure everything is okay, that Liam doesn’t feel left out or something.

 

But Liam seems to be doing just fine, being his usual charming self, sharing silly stories and making everybody laugh. His eyes turn just a little brighter every time he gets to speak about something he loves or to relive memories that make him particularly happy, and it’s – sort of fascinating. To see him open up the more comfortable he feels, laughing so hard he lifts his legs up, clutching at the back of his thighs. To hear his voice go up with excitement, words rolling out sunny and vibrant; to watch his pink lips stretch into a wide smile when the conversation turns to Hogwarts houses, pure joy etched into every animated expression as he talks about meeting Drake.

 

There isn’t much Anton can do to stop the corners of his mouth from turning up when Liam glances over at him, just for a moment, just as he giggles, playful and sweet. It’s kind of contagious, Liam’s happiness. Captivating. Beautiful. It suits him.

 

Shaking his head slightly, Anton breaks eye contact and frowns down at the glass in his hand. He tells himself he should probably stick to water from now on.

 

It starts becoming obvious that maybe everyone should switch to non-alcoholic drinks when Liam, getting a little too invested as he’s retelling a surfing story, spills beer on his t-shirt, stares down at the dark stain with a tragically honest pout, and proceeds to mourn the shirt with all the seriousness of someone who’s clearly had one too many. It just gets worse when he takes it off, which, admittedly, does make sense; it’s not strange that he would want to get rid of a dirty, sticky shirt. But then someone whistles, says, “Nicht schlecht, Kumpel, nicht schlecht,” and by that point Anton can’t do more than rub a hand over his face and let out a deep sigh.

 

He finds himself next to Liam before he can even process where his feet are taking him, fingers wrapped loosely around Liam’s wrist. “C’mon, let’s get you something to –”

 

“Wassit mean?”

 

Liam’s eyes are glassy; it’s impossible to confuse this drunken gleam with their usual bright, lively spark from this distance. But his smile is still soft, if a little confused, and this – this feels familiar, Anton thinks, remembering how he’d been unable to move away at the club when Liam had stepped closer, just to say something about the music, innocent as it gets, but he’d been frozen to the spot, thrown off balance, because –

                                                                                                          

“What’d he say?” Liam tries again, lowering his voice this time. His eyes dart around the room, like he’s hoping to find the answer written on a wall somewhere, or maybe like he’s scared that he will.

 

And – oh. That small smile isn’t just confused. 

 

Anton grabs Liam by the shoulders, slowly turning him around so he can’t see anyone’s dumb, teasing grins, and offers him a reassuring smile. “He said not bad.” There’s some snickering in the background. He doesn’t bother checking where it’s coming from exactly, just flips everyone off over Liam’s shoulder.

 

Liam still looks puzzled.

 

“Not bad… what?”

 

If it was anyone else, he’d wonder if they were fishing for compliments. But Liam is Liam and he’s too earnest for that, alcohol in his veins or not, and his smile is shy and he has both arms wrapped around himself now like he’s trying to hide. So Anton pulls at his arms until Liam stops using them as a makeshift armor, and pokes him in the stomach, over and over and over, feeling the muscles tighten under his fingertips as Liam starts to giggle.

 

“This,” is the only answer he gives, and Liam keeps giggling even as he ducks his head, half-heartedly complaining about how _that tickles, man_. But he doesn’t turn away, doesn’t tell Anton to stop, and they’re both tipsy and this most likely doesn’t mean much, but Anton is pretty sure he’s going remember Liam’s reaction anyway.

 

/ / /

 

The song Liam likes the most, the one that makes him stop his goofy dancing around the studio and sit down at the mixing desk with a curious expression on his pretty face, is the song that’s been giving Anton headaches for some weeks now. The one that ended up becoming his song by accident. If he’s being honest, it doesn’t surprise him. At some point, as he kept analyzing and overanalyzing it, unsure of where to take it next, he started associating the track with Liam, thinking back to late nights listening to Drake and Usher and JT. He could hear Liam’s voice on it so easily, the way it would work so well with the breezy vibe of – the thirty seconds he has so far. He’s stuck and he hates it.

 

“Summery,” Liam says, tapping his fingers lightly against the edge of the board.

 

Anton shrugs. “It’s a pain in my ass, I don’t know what to do with it. It just won’t –”

 

“Cooperate?” Liam’s shit-eating grin is beyond unnecessary. He starts giggling when he notices Anton’s unimpressed expression, and for some reason decides to punch him in the shoulder. Why not. “C’mon man, we’ve all been there. Besides, you’re you. You always come up with the coolest stuff in the end.”

 

Anton resolutely ignores the last part. He has no idea what he’s supposed to say to that. “I want to get out of _there_ ,” he complains instead, and punches Liam right back. He tries to, at least, but Liam catches his hand, wraps long fingers around his wrist, then lets them slide down until they’re – holding hands, kind of, Liam’s thumb brushing over his knuckles. Anton doesn’t know if he should laugh or just ignore what’s happening. He goes for the latter. “There isn’t fun anymore. I’m literally stuck there. So if you have any suggestions –”

 

“Alright, yeah,” Liam nods, happy face turning serious between one breath and the next. He turns toward the mixing board again, frowning at the buttons and sliders like he’s willing them to provide him with some ideas. “Okay, so. Let’s say we use this part for the chorus, yeah? Build the rest around it. But we’re keeping, like, the summery feel. Keep it light and fun.” Eyes glinting all of a sudden, he uses the chair to roll himself over to where the keyboard is, and starts playing a melody that isn’t identical but still is similar enough that it could be used with the original snippet. After a couple more notes he pauses abruptly, brows still furrowed, and turns to look at Anton with inquisitive eyes. “What does summer sound like to you?”

 

Anton risks a glance at where Liam’s hand was resting comfortably on top of his own a minute ago, allows himself a short moment to wonder what the fuck, and then calmly thinks of summer. Thinks of the blistering California sun, of beach parties and pool parties and colorful drinks. Of palm trees and gentle ocean waves and driving with the top down at four in the morning. Thinks of kissing someone as the sun rises and of Liam’s bright smile and –

 

He shoves both hands under his thighs.

 

“What if –” he begins, clearing his throat because he knows wires can get crossed sometimes, but this really isn’t the right time. “What if we tried – um. Have you heard of tropical house?”

 

Liam’s face does this – _thing_ when he gets excited, every single time, eyes going wide and lighting up as if someone flipped a literal switch to make them sparkle that way, lips a perfect _O_ shape as the sound leaves his mouth, a soft little _oooh_ that really shouldn’t be so endearing.

 

He nods, then quickly shakes his head. “Well, actually, no, but if it means what I think it means I get it. I’m sure I’ve heard songs, I just didn’t know there was a name for it. We could add some tropical instruments and stuff, right?”

 

“That, too,” Anton says, starting to explain more about the particularities of the genre, wanting to make sure Liam knows what he’d be agreeing to and that he could see himself doing that type of song.

 

It would be uncharted territory for both of them, he realizes, carefully considering the slower tempo and the lighter beat he’d have to use. Something like an experiment. It would be different, but the more he contemplates the possibility, the more certain he becomes that he really, really wants to try it. He thinks again about the little he has of the track so far. It needs work, he knows, but it could – it could be something. Could become something.

 

Liam is attentive, nodding along as he’s taking it all in, always eager to learn. It’s been like this since they met, Liam turning into a mix of wild creativity, sometimes unpolished knowledge and unquenchable curiosity every time they started talking about music. Anton thinks it’s why he liked Liam straight away. Despite the fame and the madness surrounding his career, he never pretended to know everything there was to know about music, never acted as if he didn’t still have so much to learn. Never lost his childlike enthusiasm, either, didn’t allow the routine of the past years to turn his passion for music into apathy. It’s why they clicked in the beginning, bonding over melodies and beats before really knowing anything about each other.

 

So it shouldn’t feel –

 

It really shouldn’t be overwhelming, having Liam’s full attention like this. Not when they’re talking about what made it so easy for them to get along in the first place. Still, he almost sighs in relief when he finishes his explanation and Liam takes over without wasting a moment.

 

And that – that is typical too, the way Liam is suddenly bursting with ideas, like he just needed someone to nudge him in the right direction, to light up the starting point so he could find his path and figure things out on his own. His fingers hover near the buttons, long and restless, like he’s itching to do something right now, start working on the track, stay locked in here until it’s done, however long that should take. He looks so alive, it’s –

 

A lot. Seeing him like this, seeing how passionate he can be, to be able to witness and _feel_ this intensity he seems to just radiate, like his very core is permanently aglow, burning even, and needs an outlet.

 

So yes, maybe it shouldn’t be overwhelming anymore because he’s seen Liam high on bouts of creativity before. But sometimes reason doesn’t work like it’s supposed to, and that is on what Anton is going to blame the fact that it takes him a second too long to notice Liam has stopped talking and is now grinning at him like he’s planning something.

 

“Do I even want to know what you’re thinking?” He can feel a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He’s blaming that on Liam, too.

 

Liam’s grin widens. “Dance with me.”

 

Anton bursts out laughing. And maybe that isn’t the most appropriate reaction, but Liam doesn’t seem to care, keeps grinning as he puts the crumb of a song on repeat and pulls Anton to his feet before he can work out that Liam is actually being serious.

 

Still laughing, he shakes his head but lets Liam do whatever he wants, thinking why the hell not as he’s getting used to the feel of Liam’s hands on his waist, warm and gentle, their faces so close he could probably count Liam’s eyelashes or all the shades of brown in his eyes or – something. He lets Liam spin him around and pull him back in and giggle into his neck like a kid getting away with stealing candy, and it’s the most teenage, stupid, uncomplicated fun he’s had in ages.

 

In his head, he’s already beginning to translate this feeling into notes that could work with the melody still playing the background.

 

/ / /

 

Liam is splitting his time between LA and London these days, recording his album, meeting big names in the industry. Anton is everywhere and nowhere at once, a different show, a different club, a different city almost every night, and only feels settled when he’s facetiming Liam and they’re trading opinions and suggestions over a small screen. He isn’t complaining, he really isn’t. He was prepared for this. Knew they wouldn’t be able to see each other every day. He’s just – slightly annoyed with himself because it’s always easier to make progress on the song when Liam does come to the studio. Having Liam around makes it easier to disconnect from whatever else might be going on and focus only on the song. His brain gets too noisy when he’s on his own.

 

Liam keeps looking for ways to help. Sometimes he’s pitching an idea, humming a few notes to show where he thinks about taking the melody; other times he’s quietly observing, watching Anton fiddle with the buttons on the board. Learning.

 

It’s still a little – intimidating, knowing that Liam is paying such close attention to everything he does. But it’s different now. He’s working towards something, they both are, and most of the time Liam’s alert eyes are all the motivation he needs to stay concentrated. Then again, just as often, Liam is the reason he gets distracted. It is what it is.

 

Sometimes Liam starts making up ridiculous lyrics. Usually when Anton stares at one of screens for longer than half an hour, the same part of the song playing on repeat and going nowhere new. Those are the evenings that end with them throwing burger wrappers at each other and Liam singing about cheese and falling asleep with his head on Anton’s shoulder. Those are the moments that make him wonder what the hell he’s doing as he takes in the shadow Liam’s eyelashes cast on his round cheeks, the gentle slope of his nose, his slightly parted lips.

 

And it’s – it’s messed up, isn’t it. Because Liam is his friend, but friends normally don’t make his heartbeat stutter simply by being so close. Friends don’t make his heart jump up in his throat when their hands brush, when their eyes meet and one of them seems to forget to look away. And he just – doesn’t know what happened, what’s changed, or when or why, because Liam is still Liam, the goofy boy with the soft heart, with so much talent and all this love for music that his body can barely contain. But he’s also – more. He’s more.

 

Anton isn’t sure he wants to figure out what that means.

 

/ / /

 

“What about the lyrics?”

 

Liam is dancing around the studio again, shaking his hips to the beat, adding in the occasional twirl as if he hasn’t bumped into the board twice already. And the chair once. He doesn’t seem too affected. 

 

“What about them?” Anton asks, shaking his head and smiling helplessly when Liam’s hip collides with the back of his chair once more. There’s only so many times he can tell Liam to be careful, and since his words seem to fall on deaf ears, he pulls at Liam’s belt loops to make him sit down, hand moving then to Liam’s knee to – keep him seated. It would be great if he could stop accidentally hurting himself.

 

Liam grins. “Need me to help?”

 

He really should have seen this coming.

 

Usually, writing lyrics is the first step he needs to complete when he’s working on a song. He likes to think of lyrics as the backbone to which he can add as many layers as he wants, playing with instruments and patterns until he has a full story told through words and musical notes in equal measure. But everything about what he’s doing now with Liam feels – unusual, in too many ways to count, so of course he would be doing this backwards too: what he has so far is the main melody line and no lyrics at all. And the ideas swirling around in his head – he knows they would promptly go to shit if he tried to put them into words when Liam was around. He just knows. 

 

Leaning back in his chair, he takes a deep breath and tries to come up with an excuse that sounds believable enough for Liam to stop thinking about the lyrics, but also doesn’t make him feel like Anton means to push him away.

 

“Actually, that’s – done. All done,” he says, flashing a smile that he hopes is coming off as composed and sincere as possible. He knows he isn’t the most skilled liar, and his heart is beating so fast it feels like it’s mocking him, but there’s nothing he can do about it now. “Just have to polish up some parts and I’ll send them to you, alright?”

 

“Oh,” Liam says, sounding uncharacteristically small. “Alright, then.” The way his voice falters is impossible to miss.

 

And this – this is exactly what Anton was trying to avoid. Because he wants Liam to be as involved as he wishes, in any and all aspects, but there’s no way he could tell him that maybe it would be better if they didn’t write the lyrics together since what his mind flies to whenever he thinks about the song is –

 

No. He’s not going to fuck this whole thing up, their project, their work, just because he’s – been spending too much time with Liam, maybe. It’s possible that this happens to people when they’re around Liam for too long. They become too endeared by him, too charmed by his light, and get some things confused.

 

“Hey, listen.” He’s not going to let Liam feel like he’s unwanted just because his self-control apparently decided to go on vacation. None of this, whatever this might be, is Liam’s fault. “I know how busy you are, that’s why I didn’t ask you to help out. I didn’t want to give you another thing to stress about, man, that’s all.” And he knows he’s offering the lie as an innocent excuse wrapped up in a pretty package, neat little bow and everything, but there’s also a sliver of truth to it. He can’t help questioning every now and then whether working on this project now of all times really is the best idea, if they shouldn’t have waited a little longer instead of adding even more work to Liam’s already packed schedule, and maybe he’s just being paranoid, but then again the dark circles that sometimes show up under Liam’s eyes are there for a reason. All he knows for sure is that he doesn’t want Liam to feel – bad or uncomfortable. In any way or at any point.

 

Tentatively, he puts a hand on Liam’s shoulder, letting his fingers press into the soft material of the dark blue hoodie until he sees Liam’s lips starting to curve upwards. Better.

 

“You could at least show me what you’ve got,” Liam counters, wide-eyed and with what seems to be a pout in the making. He presses his forehead into Anton’s shoulder, letting out a little chuckle that turns into an honest to god whine. “C’mon man, I need something. Anything. And the song does too, you know. It deserves a name. A title, like. We can’t keep calling it _the_ _song_.”

 

“We’ll call it our song, then.”

 

The words roll out of his mouth before he can think them through; a tiny, traitorous idea that apparently couldn’t wait to escape the safety and privacy of his head. He can’t even remember when he started thinking of it as _their_ song. When Liam first came to the studio? That morning in Vegas, when they decided to go for it? Even before that, when all they had was vague plans and maybes? He doesn’t know. But it is theirs, it’s always been theirs. What else could it have ever been.

 

For a second he considers taking it all back, maybe making a joke to show that he wasn’t being serious. Then again, knowing Liam, that would probably do more harm than good. But then he looks at Liam, and instead of the panic he’s expecting, because, okay, he can admit that sometimes he says too much at the worst possible time and right now he can’t help thinking he just managed to scare Liam off for good, he’s greeted with a heartbreakingly open expression, Liam’s eyes soft and earnest, and just the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips.

 

“Our song.” Liam repeats, quietly, like he’s testing out the words, the way they feel on his tongue. His smile grows as he starts nodding to himself, until he’s grinning, bright and beautiful and full of warmth, plump pink lips painted with sunshine. “Yeah,” he says, holding his hand out for a high five. “I like the sound of that.”

 

Feeling more relieved than he’d like to admit, Anton raises his hand to slap Liam’s waiting palm, the soft smack getting lost in the sound of laughter because Liam doesn’t let go, keeps holding onto Anton’s hand like he needs a physical connection he can share his joy through, keeps grinning happily like he’s getting exactly what he wanted.

 

One day, looking back, Anton will remember this as the moment when something breaks. Shatters, really; quiet but sharp. As their eyes stay locked on each other and Liam’s fingertips write questions on his skin and the world turns fuzzy around the edges. It isn’t the massive, earth-shattering kind of explosion that makes one inhale deeply and fear whatever might come next, a dreaded leap into the unknown. Instead, it feels like applying pressure a final time on the weakest point, almost accidentally, tiny fragments of a fragile whole breaking apart, rearranging into a new shape, and it feels – right.

 

They’re working on a summer song in the middle of the winter, and Anton can see himself falling down the rabbit hole, helpless and willing all at once, and it’s fine because Liam’s smile is warm like the sun in July, and for a moment everything makes perfect sense. 

 

/ / /

 

It isn’t supposed to be a love song.

 

He’s having lunch with a couple of friends when he starts scribbling on a napkin, two days after Liam leaves for London, drifting in and out of the conversation with thoughts of words that aren’t exactly the ones he needs. Without even meaning to, he flashes back to what Liam said about the song – keep it light and fun – but another look at the dark ink swirling on the napkin he’s half hiding under his phone confirms that he’s actually doing the opposite.

 

Nevertheless, he keeps trying.

 

It takes him a full week to accept he’s not going to be able to do this on his own.

 

So he goes back in the studio with people he trusts to understand the vibe of the song, to see what he sees, to help him find the words that would fit. They don’t finish it overnight but it’s definitely getting somewhere, a theme starting to take shape as more words find their place on once-blank pages, which means he’ll have something to show Liam the next time he asks.

 

If that’s the part that Anton is the most excited about, he tries not to think about it too much. After all, the song is coming along as it should, which is what really matters. So they keep writing and revising and rewriting, and if anyone notices his lyrics are more romantic than sultry, no one mentions a thing.

 

/ / /

 

It’s February by the time he notices the photos and videos, and the only reason he does is because his phone decides to inform him that his storage is full when he wants to take a picture of a puppy that reminds him of Liam to send it to him, only to discover he can’t. That part isn’t what fazes him, it’s happened before and he’s willing to bet it will happen again. He likes using his phone to make sure he gets to keep the memories he makes as vivid as possible; sometimes he loses track. Nothing unusual.

 

He just wasn’t expecting so many of the pictures and short clips to be of Liam.

 

It’s a game. He can’t remember which one of them started it, but he thinks it might have been him. At first it was just silly faces, funny moments, Liam getting too excited about plans and possibilities, and stumbling over his own feet. Vegas was a given, a special circumstance, unplanned but brilliant; wanting to celebrate and capture everything about that night on camera was only natural. But now –

 

It’s a storybook. It’s Liam slumped in his chair, barely awake, or frowning at the mixing board, or smiling so big his eyes disappear. It’s the two of them together, messing around on the keyboard, or singing along to Top 40 hits and pulling faces until one of them – Liam, who is he kidding, it’s always Liam – is laughing too hard for the video to be anything other than a collection of never-ending giggles and crinkly-eyed smiles.  

 

It’s happiness preserved in images, and he knows that Liam is a positive person, bubbly and warm like an actual ray of sunshine, but a part of him can’t help hoping that maybe he’s a little responsible too for how happy Liam looks whenever they are together. He doesn’t know if that makes him selfish. All he knows is he can’t stop smiling when Liam is around.

 

/ / /

 

So, he comments on Liam’s magazine cover, and it’s – it’s a harmless remark, really. He’s just being supportive. Liam looks good, the whole boxer theme really suits him, why not pay him an honest compliment. And, okay, he’s aware of the implications, of course he is, but it’s not like –

 

He’s seen Liam shirtless in person too many times to count, the cover is nothing compared to that. He isn’t actually _reacting_ to it. Well, he is, but not like –

 

He doesn’t mean –

 

He has no idea what he means. Maybe he should have just DMed Liam instead.

 

It’s a somewhat strange morning, not that he’s blaming it on anyone other than himself and his own dumb knee-jerk reaction to the cover. Which is why he tries to avoid social media as much as possible, turns off his notifications for a few hours, because while he’s never been one to shy away from sharing with the world that he has no problem being affectionate with his friends, he can’t be sure that he isn’t crossing some lines here, that Liam is okay with all this, and, well, Twitter tends to be pretty – wild. About everything. All the time.

 

When his phone buzzes around noon, he knows it has to be a text from Liam. What he doesn’t know is what to expect. Sure, Liam isn’t exactly subtle when showing his affection either, but that usually happens with people he’s been close to for years. The two of them on the other hand, they’re not – they haven’t known each other that long, so. It wouldn’t be all that surprising if Liam wasn’t as comfortable with him as he is with other friends.

 

Maybe he did cross a line with that tweet. Maybe Liam wants him to delete it. Maybe he should just read the text.

 

It’s the winking emoji, the smirking one, and lastly the one with the stuck-out tongue.

 

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Anton covers his face with a slightly trembling hand and laughs.

 

/ / /

 

The Liam he knows – the Liam he’s used to – dances like an idiot. He’s all big, silly movements and too much energy to worry about looking cool. It’s adorable, actually, and it obviously makes him happy, but until tonight dancing was something Anton thought for sure he could only ever associate with Liam being his usual goofy self.  However, the Liam he’s looking at now isn’t dancing to make someone laugh or keep them entertained, or even simply because his body can’t contain all the joy he’s feeling for whichever reason and needs an outlet. This is a whole new side of him. He’s using his body the same way he uses his voice onstage, with confidence, clearly aware of the effect he has on the people watching him, enjoying it. He smiles wide and sharp at everyone that comes up to him, girls who let their fingers slide up his arms, guys that pull him in with a hand on the back of his neck. It’s all – very interesting to observe.

 

Anton keeps shuffling over to the bar, alternating between all the soft drinks he can order and the occasional beer. He’s painfully sober, though, which is why he’s only observing. If he wasn’t, he would have done something stupid by now.

 

They’re meant to be celebrating that Liam finished recording the vocals, that they’re making serious progress with their song, and for the most part they are. It’s only when Anton moves away from wherever Liam is on the dancefloor and watches him quietly from afar that things get – a little fuzzy and weird. Definitely not in the fun-drunk way. More like the introspective-and-slightly-terrifying way, which isn’t exactly ideal for a night out, but. Whatever.

 

Besides yelling over the music for a bit when they first got in and later some stolen glances and a couple of fist bumps that Anton can’t remember what the point of was, they haven’t interacted much. Not that it bothers him. He wasn’t expecting them to be attached at the hip, they’re at a club for fuck’s sake, of course they would be dancing with other people and – yeah, anyway. It’s fine.

 

If a minute later he decides to abandon his spot at the bar and go back to the dancefloor, it’s just because he’s bored. Observing can only hold his attention for so long. Still feeling entirely too sober but determined to shut down any too-reasonable thoughts, he makes his way over to Liam, who seems to be perfectly content to be dancing alone now to a remix of a Bruno song. His face lights up when he notices Anton, hand reaching out to pull him close without hesitation.

 

Anton lets it happen.

 

“Thought you’d never come,” Liam giggles, eyes sparkling like summer stars. “You kept disappearing on me, man. Are you trying to tell me something?” He has to raise his voice a little, but at least now they’re close enough that shouting isn’t necessary. His hands settle on Anton’s waist, big and warm, just like the smile on his lips.

 

Anton lets that happen too.

 

He nods toward the bar, resolutely not thinking about the slight pressure of Liam’s fingertips that he’s keenly feeling through the thin material of his shirt. And there it is, the sensible part of him resurfacing as easily as it always does when he isn’t trying to numb it with alcohol. Right now it bothers him more than it probably should. 

 

“Just that you should get some water in you or something. You’ve been dancing all night, dehydration is a thing. The usual.”

 

Giggling again, Liam leans in until their foreheads are pressed together, arms coming up to wrap themselves around Anton’s shoulders. “Stop babying me, man. I’m good, this girl kept bringing me drinks.”

 

Anton nods. Yeah, he’d noticed. Can’t exactly say that out loud, though, can he. Suddenly a little worried, he pulls back just enough to be able to study Liam’s face more carefully. What he sees are bright but surprisingly clear eyes and an amused smile. He has to ask anyway.

 

“Are you drunk?”

 

Liam rolls his eyes, but his smile stays in place. “I’m good,” he repeats in a mock-exasperated tone. Then, like he wants to make a point, to prove that he’s perfectly in control of his mind and his limbs too, he spins Anton around, hands back on his waist, and squeezes his sides when he pulls him in again.

 

Liam buries another giggle in his neck, and this time Anton can’t hold back a laugh either, because Liam is being handsy and ridiculous and he’s weak. He really can’t be blamed for how contagious Liam’s cheerfulness is.

 

It takes him a little too long to notice that their goofing around turns into dancing, actual dancing, silly movements becoming more coordinated as the tracks change. By the time he does catch on, he’s facing Liam again, a hand on the small of his back and the other on the side of his neck, Liam’s forehead leaning against his temple. There are a lot of things Anton tries to ignore, but the more he pretends not to notice, the more aware of them he becomes. Like the fact that Liam is so close, chest pressed to his own, that he can feel his heartbeat. His own heart speeding up, a restless traitor racing like it’s trying to win a marathon. Liam turning his head just so, lips brushing against Anton’s cheek for a second or two, and making him hold his breath in until it hurts.

 

He doesn’t notice anything, except for how he does, and it’s – such a fucking mess because none of this was supposed to happen. And he wants to know if he’s the only one going crazy with possibilities he never allows himself to think through to the very end, if Liam is fighting off the same bewildering chaos behind his calm, happy façade, if he truly doesn’t feel like things between them took a strange turn at some point, and led them – here.

 

Then again, maybe there is no _here_. Or at least it isn’t where they both are.

 

He pulls away, takes a step back for good measure, and offers a small smile that probably looks as fake as it feels. “Need to get out of here for a sec. Come with me?”

 

Liam looks a little confused but nods anyway, follows him out wordlessly, a hand on Anton’s shoulder like he doesn’t want them to stop touching. He doesn’t say anything until they’re outside, the cool breeze dancing now on their skin.

 

“You alright?”

 

Anton shrugs in response, turns his head to find Liam looking at him with wide, concerned eyes. He’s half a step behind him for some reason.

 

“Just needed some air,” he smiles, and it feels more genuine this time.

 

Maybe Liam can sense it too, because he smiles back.

 

All they have to do to get to the beach is cross the street, and they walk in companionable silence after that, shoulders brushing every now and then, but the touch is familiar, almost soothing. This is something he can handle, Anton tells himself, Liam’s proximity comfortable but not overwhelming. Not sending his heart into overdrive, not making his thoughts go haywire. He knows he still needs to figure out how to – _not_ let things get out of control in the first place, but he’ll worry about that later. Preferably when Liam is on a different continent. For now, he’s content to just sit in the sand with Liam by his side, watching the sun begin to light up a sky that can’t seem to decide what color it wants to be.

 

“Have I said thank you yet?” Liam asks after a while, apropos of nothing, pointedly looking down as he’s picking at a thread on his ripped jeans.

 

Anton frowns. He doesn’t try to hide the confusion in his voice when he asks, short and almost inaudible, “For what?”

 

Liam gives a half-shrug, lips curved into a shy smile. He still avoids making eye contact. “These past months. Letting me see your world. Choosing to work with me, being patient enough to teach me stuff and letting me learn at my own pace.” Shaking his head, he covers his face and lets out an embarrassed little chuckle. “I don’t know, man. Everything, I guess.” He shrugs again. “I think you’re amazing. Just wanted to say it.”

 

For the second time that night, Anton’s heart climbs up in his throat, beating so fast like it wants to jump out and straight into Liam’s palms. And it’s not like – he’s flattered by Liam’s words, of course he is, but that isn’t what has him feeling like he can’t get enough air into his lungs. It’s how deeply Liam means it; how earnest his eyes are. How his voice sounds so vulnerable, like he’s cutting himself open to reveal the most defenseless side of him, and it’s insane because Liam already is an open book most of the time, but this feels like so much more. It’s the self-deprecating note underneath it all that makes this so bittersweet, makes Anton lose his mind a little.

 

“Liam,” he begins and stops as soon as brown eyes look right into his own, train of thought derailing completely. It’s a problem. It’s definitely a problem. He’ll deal with that later, too. Taking a deep breath, he tries again. “You do realize I wanted this, right? Want this. You. For the song. You were my first choice. Liam, you were my only choice, I had a feeling you’d like the song even before you came to the studio. Or maybe I was just hoping you were going to like it, I don’t know, but. It always made me think of you. I wanted us to work on it together, you do know this, right?” He thinks he might sound a bit tortured and too intense, but he needs Liam to understand what he means. It’s important that he understands.

 

“I do, I know,” Liam says and he’s smiling, wide and happy, which is – beyond unexpected, but. In a good way. “I mean, I believe it, I just – I’m still trying to wrap my head around it, I guess? But I get it. I really do.”

 

He scoots a little closer and all Anton can do is watch him; study him, really, looking for signs that could give away how Liam really feels, if he’s just putting up a front because he doesn’t want to talk, doesn’t want to make things awkward. But he seems content, serene. He pulls his legs up to chest, folds his arms over them, and looks out at the sun rising over the ocean with a small, private smile on his lips. Anton keeps looking at him. Their shoulders are touching again, and maybe he’s starting to become tired, due to a lack of sleep and also a different kind of exhaustion, but he swears he can feel the calm energy coming from Liam like it’s a tangible thread, so he lets it take over. It’s that time of the night – morning? – when it’s both too late and too early, when the beach is empty and quiet, and the world is peaceful like it can never be during the day, and that’s how he wants to feel as well.

 

He keeps his eyes on Liam, because he either can’t or doesn’t want to look away, he isn’t sure. There are a lot of things he isn’t sure of anymore. It makes his stomach swoop stupidly, seeing Liam like this, smiling and wide-eyed even at five in the morning, makes something ache inside his ribcage in that familiar way that always leads to trouble. But whose fault is it that the situation got out of hand, he asks himself, still gazing intently at Liam, still unable or unwilling to tear his eyes away from him.

 

And Liam doesn’t know. Liam has no idea that any of this is happening. He’s still watching the sun rise slowly, his pretty lips as pink as always, hair dark and wavy like the ocean lapping at their feet.

 

It’s not as if Anton hadn’t noticed the moment they met how attractive Liam was. It’s not as if he’d been unaware of it until now. It just – didn’t used to matter before. Not like this.

 

When Liam catches him staring, his calm expression turns into a goofy face and then a self-conscious chuckle.

 

“What is it?” he asks, nudges Anton with his elbow. He’s back to smiling.

 

“I know you’re going for this cool, intense image and all,” Anton teases gently, remembering the promotional photos and short clips Liam had shown him a few days ago, giggling and grinning mischievously since no one was supposed to see them yet, but Liam had been too excited and apparently that was his version of being rebellious, “but I think I still like it better when you’re smiling.”

 

And maybe he sounds too earnest, but he can’t find it himself to care anymore. To worry. To try to hide this stupid affection he feels for Liam that seems to want to just explode out of him. As long as Liam doesn’t think he’s overstepping his bounds, he doesn’t see why he shouldn’t be open about it, especially since all Liam has been trying to do so far is return that affection threefold, unapologetically, unabashedly.

 

Even now, his eyes are the warmest Anton has ever seen, kind and wide and easy to read. Sparkling. Making it obvious that Liam is happy. Pleased. Anton tries not to let it mess with his head that it’s all because of his words but. He’s a little pleased, too.

 

Liam opens his mouth to speak, but then seems to think better of it, shakes his head and giggles. He rubs the back of his neck, looking down all the while, the movement somewhat clumsy like he isn’t entirely sure what he’s supposed to do with himself, but when he turns his head to look at Anton it’s with a boyish smile that Anton wants to write a symphony about. And fuck, Liam is so impossibly beautiful that it knocks the air out of his lungs.

 

“For what it’s worth,” Liam begins, folding himself together again, resting his head on his knees but not looking away, “I really like it when you’re smiling too.”

 

/ / /

 

He’s not doing it on purpose. The way he talks about Liam in interviews. He’s just being honest, he wouldn’t have finished the song without him. Liam is amazing and talented, it’s only natural that he would praise him. Like, a normal amount.

 

At least until he comes across some of Liam’s interviews. Then he sees the way Liam talks about him, remembers what being together in the studio felt like, remembers the fun they had outside of it, and he can’t stop gushing like an infatuated twelve-year-old.

 

He refuses to let that realization make him act stupid even when he isn’t actually talking about the song, so he keeps sending Liam parts that he wants him to rerecord, and focuses on work with more stubbornness than he ever thought he possessed. He’s handling being away from Liam just fine.

 

He is.

 

/ / /

 

At the end of May, he hits send one last time and spends the next ten minutes carefully thinking about nothing. When Liam finally texts him, a string of excited emojis and exclamations marks, he smiles dumbly at his phone until his cheeks start to hurt. When the second and third texts come in, an all-Liam _love itttt broo_ followed by an unusually solemn _thank you for letting me be part of this_ , he swallows thickly and allows himself to complete the thought for the first time:

 

It’s you. It’s about you.

 

/ / /

 

Liam finds him first, all bright smiles and nervous energy, along with a fidget spinner that seems to be his new best friend. He bursts into the dressing room with impatient excitement, then, laughing, he apologizes for the sudden arrival and pulls Anton into a hug that’s a little surprising in its intensity as it is wonderful, arms tightly wrapped around each other’s torsos. Yet, when Liam buries his nose in the crook of his neck and inhales deeply, Anton can’t help thinking that this might be about more than just Liam being his typically unguarded self when showing affection. The room is full of people that are definitely watching them now, but Liam keeps holding on like he needs this more than he could possibly care about the lack of privacy, and Anton can’t stop himself from asking if he’s okay, voice muffled in Liam’s hoodie so that no one else can hear the question.

 

“Brilliant, actually.” Liam pulls away, but his hands stay on Anton’s arms, fingertips pressing in slightly. His smile seems genuine enough, if a little anxious. “Can’t wait to go on stage.”

 

Anton nods, helplessly returning the smile, and pats Liam on the shoulder when he starts shifting his weight from one foot to the other, dark eyes flitting around the room. It’s making him a little nervous too, how jittery Liam is being, his own gestures awkward and unsure, like he suddenly can’t remember how to act around Liam anymore. But this isn’t about him and he knows it. It’s a big moment for Liam, probably the most important one so far, of course he’d be on edge, no matter how excited the thought of performing usually gets him. With that in mind, Anton pushes back the _I missed you_ and _I couldn’t wait to see you again_ for a later conversation, because Liam is so focused on the show and taking him out of that state of mind now would mess him up. It just – isn’t the right moment. They can always talk later.

 

There is no time to hang out, not really. They take a selfie that Liam posts on Instagram, he does the same with a Snapchat video that can’t hide or change how restless Liam truly is even though its purpose was to distract him at least for a few seconds, and then Liam has to go. It’s the usual chaos that accompanies events like these, especially one of this size, the never-ending bustle that sounds like music itself, everyone having somewhere to be and something to do and a schedule to follow. Theirs don’t really align, but they keep finding each other between interviews and games and photo sessions. Liam is running hot and cold, in a different mood every time Anton sees him, sometimes buzzing out of his skin with excitement, the natural-born entertainer even backstage, joking around with people from his team and everyone else that comes up to him; at other times he’s just shuffling behind them, quiet and reserved, talking only when he has to, offering little more than a polite thank you and a shy smile when someone tells him they can’t wait for his performance. Given the circumstances, there’s nothing strange about his nervousness; even Liam’s experience can only help him so much now. Anyone would be anxious and tense, no matter how many times they’d been in a similar situation before. It’s normal.

 

That doesn’t stop Anton from sticking to his side the next time they run into each other and Liam is looking uncomfortably serious and a little lost again. He just wants Liam to enjoy this, every moment of it, not spend half of his time walking around with worst case scenarios in his head and panic written all over his face.

 

“Got a minute?” Liam’s eyes light up when he notices Anton falling into step next to him, shoulders relaxing, and that doesn’t have to mean anything, but – maybe it does.

 

Liam shrugs. “I guess? I’m not sure where I’m supposed to go next, to be honest, I –”

 

“This way, then.”

 

Gently, he grabs Liam’s elbow and leads him to a table where bottles of water are lined up in neat little rows. He grabs one just to give his hands something to do, watches Liam do the same and then immediately start to fiddle with the cap.

 

“Okay, so you’re obviously freaking out. Wanna tell me why?”

 

Liam lowers his head, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. If he’s trying to hide that something actually is bothering him he’s not doing a very good of it. And Anton doesn’t want to push, but Liam closing himself off like this is painful to watch, and he can’t just – not do anything about it.

 

“Talk to me, Liam,” he tries again, stepping closer and carefully placing a hand on Liam’s back. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

 

A small sigh escapes Liam’s lips. “It’s not –” He cuts himself off, making a vague gesture with his free hand as he’s frowning at a spot on the wall in front of him. Taking a deep breath, he opens his mouth but closes it again quickly, pressing his lips together like he doesn’t want the words to come out after all. He does it again, and then once more, but in the end his shoulders sag when he lets out a long, deep sigh. The corners of his mouth lift up into a sad smile.

 

“It’s a big stadium,” he answers and shrugs, looking a little apologetic, a little helpless.  

 

There is a lot that he isn’t saying, Anton thinks to himself, watching Liam shake off the faraway look in his eyes. But it’s okay. If he really doesn’t want to talk about it right now, he doesn’t have to. Anton can play along.

 

“Not the first time you’re performing here,” he reminds Liam.

 

“Well, yes, but –”

 

“Don’t do that.” He doesn’t raise his voice but his tone is firm, leaves no room for argument. Because he does know what Liam was about to say, piecing everything together really isn’t too difficult, and he can’t let Liam chase thoughts that would send him down a spiral of self-doubt. “You’re still you,” he continues, eyes locked on Liam’s, a comforting hand coming up to rest on his shoulder. “No matter what else changes, that won’t. And you were made for this, Liam, I’ve seen you on stage. I’ve seen how you come alive when you’re up there, how you can work a crowd. That’s all you. It’s your gift. I saw you, remember?”

 

_I know you_ , he wants to say. But this isn’t the right time, and it stings that he still has to measure his words around Liam after all these months, but he can’t come out with it without opening up a bigger can of worms, and he can’t do that that, not right now.

 

Liam doesn’t say anything at first, barely reacts at all. His eyes are wide and bright, even more so than usual, the way they always are when Liam’s emotions get the best of him and he can’t hide it. They’re soft, too. Warm and earnest and kind, filled with unbridled affection. Typical Liam.

 

So when he says, “Thank you,” voice low and sweet and a little broken, it isn’t surprising. Overwhelming still, but not unexpected.

 

If it was anyone else standing in front of him, Anton thinks this is the moment when he’d make a dumb joke. Say something ridiculous and stupid to loosen up the situation and make the other person laugh. But this is Liam, nervous and broken open but still not backing down, looking at him with a gentle smile on his lips and fierce gratitude in his eyes. So, no, he can’t do what he normally would, and it isn’t the first time that he’s noticing how differently he treats Liam from the rest of his friends, but. Friends don’t make him feel like he wants to cup their cheeks and kiss their worries away the way he does right now looking at Liam, who’s watching him with a heartbreakingly soft and open expression on his face.

 

He pulls Liam into a tight hug instead of saying anything, partly because he doesn’t know how else he could offer comfort, but also because Liam looking at him like that is making him lose his mind a little. There are instances, he thinks, when feeling like this wouldn’t be a problem. This isn’t one of them.  

 

“You could at least get me a customized shirt too,” he murmurs after a while, when the moment stretches too long and people are watching again. Liam’s loud, surprised laugh makes him feel like he’s finally done something right.

 

“Oh my god, you – I owe him a hoodie, it was only fair,” Liam defends himself, still laughing, and pulls back. His eyes are sparkling again. For a second it looks like he wants to say more, but he hesitates, lips parting and no words coming out. In the end he only shakes his head and offers a sheepish smile. “I should probably go. Get ready and all. See you later?”

 

Anton nods. “Of course.”

 

It’s stupid, but Liam pulls him into another quick hug before he leaves – for good luck, he says –, hand on the back of his neck and a smile he can feel mirrored on his own face, and Anton lets his mind drift back to it over and over through every interview and every conversation he has that afternoon. He feels like a teenager with a crush.

 

When Liam’s performance is announced, he’s already on one of the couches in the green room, jiggling his leg like all of Liam’s nerves are his own now, flowing in his veins. He thinks he could work with that if he knew for sure Liam wasn’t panicking anymore. And then he stops thinking, watching the platform lift Liam up in the middle of the stage, watching him perform his song live for the first time in front of eighty thousand people.

 

He’s the same Liam as always, happy, enthusiastic, full of life. The only difference is that every emotion seems to be heightened to infinity now, going supernova, bringing out a side of him that sleeps quietly under the surface when he isn’t on a stage doing what he loves most. He’s confident and bold and fearless, his stage presence commanding like he’s ready to take on the world and make it his playground as long as he gets to put on a show. It’s like watching him blossom, buoyed up by the huge crowd looking up at him and cheering him on; they’re singing his song back at him and he plays off their energy with the ease that only someone who has been doing this for years could have. He looks at home. Not intimidated, not insecure. His voice is steady and beautiful as he dances, keeping up with the choreography, running around the stage with the most brilliant smile on his face. And Anton feels stupidly proud, because despite all of Liam’s poorly hidden concerns and doubts, this is so obviously where he belongs, pouring his heart into every note and every move, receiving thundering love in return, every negative emotion dissolving in the face of it.

 

The sudden need to speak to Liam right now, to hold him close and praise him and make sure he’s as proud of himself as he should be, feels wild and disconcerting. It’s uncontrollable and maybe a little irrational, pushing him to his feet as soon as Liam waves and smiles for the last time at the deafening crowd. He knows he should be thinking of something to say, something other than broken sentences that stop before they can even begin, but his mind feels too much like the busy winding hallways he’s all but running through, noisy and tangled, and he can only focus on one thing at a time.

 

When he finally finds Liam, he’s still surrounded by his dancers, his team, and at least a dozen other people who are clapping and cheering. He’s flustered but glowing, ducking his head when he laughs, accepting congratulations and compliments with a shy grin and flushed cheeks. He’s stunning and so happy it’s breathtaking, and Anton stops in his tracks, heart hammering in his chest because in the midst of it all Liam’s eyes still find his as if there was no one else around, and the smile he gives is small and private.

 

With a boyish grin and a couple more handshakes, Liam excuses himself, and then he’s making his way towards Anton with large, fast steps, throws his arms around him the instant they’re close enough to touch. He’s shaking.

 

“I don’t think I fucked it up,” Liam breathes out, amazed, a little incredulous.

 

Anton wraps his arms tighter around him, hands fisted in the material of Liam’s dark jacket. “Are you kidding me, you were amazing.” He hears Liam let out a short chuckle, feels it, a warm huff of air more than anything, heavy with relief. “I knew you would be.”

 

Liam pulls away, watches him silently for a few seconds with careful eyes like he’s deliberating something he isn’t willing to share yet. Anton doesn’t ask. He still doesn’t ask when Liam wraps long fingers around his wrist and starts walking down the narrow hallway that leads back to the dressing rooms, just follows him without a word, ignoring the nervous swoop in his stomach. Everyone around is too busy to pay attention to them, and he isn’t entirely sure why, but he’s grateful for it. He keeps a mostly neutral expression on his face anyway, changes it to a polite smile if he happens to make eye contact with a distressed techie for a fraction of a second. He doesn’t look at Liam or their joined hands; he hopes no one else does, either. They manage to slip unnoticed into Liam’s now empty dressing room, and it’s only then that he allows himself to think about whatever is or isn’t happening.

 

“Liam, what –”

 

He finds himself with his back against the door as soon as Liam closes it.

 

If he’s honest, he’s seen Liam look like this before. When he talks about things that matter to him, that he’s passionate about. When he gets an idea for a melody that he doesn’t want to lose so he beatboxes into his phone to keep it safe. When the competitive side of him comes out and he doesn’t stop trying until he’s satisfied with the results. When something scares him but he goes on and does it anyway because it’s what he wants.

 

His eyes are burning, nervous hands sliding down Anton’s arms, settling on his waist, and Anton sees it coming but he’s still paralyzed when Liam leans in and presses their lips together, gently, just for a second. And he doesn’t – doesn’t kiss back, doesn’t breathe. He’s vaguely away of his heart drumming in his ears, but he’s unable to react, feeling untethered and a little lost, disconnected from his own body. Only when Liam pulls back can he snap out of it, a chill going through his body once he realizes what he did. What he didn’t do.

 

For a moment, there’s only silence. Anton wants to rewind, pretend this didn’t happen, forget that their lips barely touching made his mind turn blank, made him stupid and numb and too panicked to respond. He wants to apologize for making Liam look like he thinks he did something wrong, but all he can do is stare, open-mouthed and dazed, as Liam’s sparkling eyes turn dull and disappointed.

 

Liam takes a step back when the silence stretches on painfully. “If I’m reading this wrong,” he starts, a corner of his mouth turned up into a sad half-smile, “now would be the time to tell me.”

 

Anton keeps staring, heartbeat stuttering uncomfortably before picking up speed again, a warning and a decision all at once. He pulls Liam back in by the front his shirt, lets his gaze flick down to Liam’s lips for a brief second before leaning in to kiss him with the enthusiasm of a teenager and the timidity of someone who’s been waiting too long for a good reason.

 

Liam gasps. It’s the first thing that Anton becomes aware of, the small gasp that gets lost inside his mouth as he learns the taste of Liam’s lips, learns how they feel against his own, full and soft and addictive. He holds onto Liam like he would drown if he let go, hand sliding down his side, gripping onto his hip with more force than necessary, and kisses him harder because he can’t stop now that he knows he’s allowed to do this, can’t slow down. Liam responds without missing a beat, lips parting under his own and moving like they know what they want, confident and sweet, soft flesh made for this. A small sound escapes Liam’s mouth when Anton pulls back to take a breath, stubborn and tortured, his hands fisting in Anton’s shirt and pulling him back in like he wants to make sure he won’t run away. Anton almost laughs at the absurdity of that thought, but Liam starts kissing him again, tongue sliding over his lips, into his mouth, and the chuckle turns into a low moan. Liam pushes him up against the door again. His hands come down on Anton’s hips, sliding under his shirt, thumbs finding the soft skin around his hipbones and pressing in until Anton lets out a broken little whimper that gets lost inside Liam’s mouth.

 

It feels as natural as everything they’ve ever done, on the same page from the first meeting, falling into place next to each other effortlessly. They fit like this too, lips molding together with ease, bodies aligned perfectly. It feels surreal.

 

Liam breaks the kiss but doesn’t pull away, one hand coming up to cradle Anton’s face, the other falling on the small of his back, bringing their bodies closer together. His breath ghosts over Anton’s lips, warm and comforting, a phantom touch that makes him grin like an infatuated idiot. He spreads his fingers over Liam’s heart, feels the unsteady ta-thump-ta-ta-thump vibrating under his hand, and doesn’t open his eyes until Liam is pressing their foreheads together.

 

Although his breathing is uneven, Liam’s smile is wide and confident and beautiful. “Oh,” he says, softly, warm eyes crinkling at the corners as they run over Anton’s face.

 

“Oh,” Anton echoes, nodding mindlessly, gaze helplessly drawn to Liam’s kiss-swollen lips.

 

Liam leans down and kisses him again.

 

/ / /

 

They’re doing this huge elaborate photoshoot for the single. Anton still can’t fully wrap his head around it, even as he starts posting short clips on social media, too excited not to share the experience or to even really consider keeping it all to himself. It’s so much more than he’s used to. The location is spectacular, a little corner of paradise near the beach, green and lush, tall palm trees surrounding an elegant villa. He knows they won’t be shooting inside, they’re following a theme and only need the pool for a handful of photos, but it is so beautiful nonetheless, completing the picture perfectly, that he can’t stop looking around in wonder.

 

Liam seems to agree, taking everything in with bright eyes and a wide grin, and Anton doesn’t even try to suppress the warm surge of affection he feels in that moment, heart glowing for this boy who has seen the world but still is unabashedly amazed by everything in it.

 

“This is so cool,” Liam exclaims with childlike glee, beaming like he just found a new favorite playground.

 

Anton can’t help noticing how he gets a little more excited every time he spots something new, and he doesn’t want to think that this Liam – so eager and enthusiastic and full of joy even ahead of a long day of work – is the most beautiful sight he’s ever laid his eyes on, but. Well. His heartbeat stumbles over one of Liam’s brilliant smiles, so there’s that.

 

It’s been a week and they haven’t talked about – anything. But Liam keeps finding reasons to touch him, hands on his waist and arms thrown around his shoulders and lips brushing against the shell of his ear or his jaw when Liam leans in to whisper something he could have said out loud without problems, and Anton thinks this might be enough for now. Because nothing’s changed on the surface, Liam isn’t putting on an act when he’s being friendly, his intentions aren’t contrived. If there’s something more between them now, if sometimes Anton catches Liam’s eyes following him, and if Liam’s smile turns shy but he doesn’t look away – that’s for them to notice and understand. It’s their secret to keep safe.

 

The sunny day seems to reflect the entire crew’s positive and cheery mood, and soon enough it becomes obvious just how much fun Liam is used to having even when he’s doing his job. Anton was expecting it to some extent, but working with Liam like this is different; they aren’t cooped up inside a studio, and Liam’s liveliness seems to be amplified by the open space and everyone looking either amused or endeared by his antics. He doesn’t stop dancing and giggling when they aren’t posing, jumping around like there’s too much energy in his body and he needs to exhaust himself to be able to keep a straight face for the poses. It’s contagious. It’s ridiculous and stupid and hilarious, and Anton doesn’t know how not to indulge Liam, so every five-minute break turns into an opportunity to dance together or go stealing carts and drive around just for the fun of it. They do make everyone’s job a little difficult at times, he thinks, but then again, every crew member is laughing when he sneaks a glance at them, amused instead of annoyed by the never-ending playfulness.

 

And he gets it. He thinks this might be the most he’s laughed in a single day in his whole life, watching Liam goof around and dancing with him, making dumb jokes and videos that they share online with everyone who’s willing to watch.

 

It’s in a quiet moment during their fifth or sixth outfit change that Anton stops to catch his breath for what feels like the first time that day. His eyes stay on Liam, because while everything revolving around him might be more complicated and intense than Anton is used to or was ever expecting, Liam himself is the one constant that keeps him anchored to reality. Keeps him connected to the here and now, doesn’t let him get lost inside a world of insanity that he never wanted to be a part of.

 

Liam notices him staring, of course he does.

 

“What?” he asks with a small grin, fixing his denim jacket with practiced ease, the picture of casual confidence.

 

He looks the youngest Anton has ever seen him, the barely-there stubble lining his jaw and the smile pushing up his cheeks bringing out his boyish features more than usual. He looks like the kid he still is in a lot of ways, Anton can’t help thinking, openly sweet and playful and soft, not hiding behind a hard shell of muscles and rugged looks.

 

He’s still so beautiful that it makes all of Anton’s thoughts trip up and tangle, and by the time he realizes Liam is waiting for an answer, he can only come with up one that’s unnecessarily sappy and he isn’t feeling brave enough for that. So he chooses something dumb instead and says, “You look fifteen without the beard.”

 

Liam blink at him, slowly, like he isn’t sure how he’s supposed to respond. Then, as if he’d been prepared for this all along, he gives a terribly offended gasp and crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, you look fifteen with it,” he replies, still mock-insulted, but also sounding so stupidly pleased with himself, smug like he just delivered a killer comeback for the ages.

 

Anton almost expects him to stick his tongue out, too. He tries to bite back a laugh, which works until he sees Liam’s lips twitch, and then they both burst into laughter at the same time, Liam’s arms coming up around his shoulders and pulling him into a tight hug.

 

“You’re ridiculous,” Anton says, ignoring as much as he can the way Liam’s breath is tickling the side of his neck. “Your hair is ridiculous too.”

 

Liam pulls back and nods, grinning happily like he can hear the meaning behind each word. He licks his lips, letting his gaze drift around for a while like he’s contemplating his next move, then leans back in, chuckling. “It’s okay,” he says, “I think you’re really hot too.”

 

Anton wants to think of a witty reply, but his mind goes blank, and he’s left open-mouthed and staring as Liam walks away with an innocent smile on his face when their names are called. He doesn’t like admitting it, but it takes him a long moment to remember they still have work to do.

 

It’s Liam’s idea to go down to the beach during one of their afternoon breaks. He says he just wants to take some pictures, fumbling with his phone while Anton gives him a wary look that makes his cheeks flush for some reason. It’s suspicious, but Liam’s switched back to being sweet and shy, so Anton agrees anyway. It’s not like he’s ever been good at telling Liam no.

 

They stick together for a while, arms draped around shoulders, phones shoved in each other’s faces for the ridiculous and intimate kind of memories that aren’t meant to be shared with anyone else. But Liam is still full of restless energy, so when he notices a huge toppled palm tree he runs towards it like he’s on his way to win a race. He starts climbing it without a second thought, happily shouting “Paddy, look!” when he’s standing up on the trunk, taking one stubborn step after another despite barely managing to keep his balance. Liam’s bodyguard does look on, with the resigned expression of someone who has seen too much over the years and has accepted that he will continue to see too much. Anton can’t hold back a chuckle. He takes a picture of Liam’s adventure with the palm tree too, feels like it would be a fun memory to keep, that Liam might want to look back on it someday.

 

Later, when Liam posts the picture on Instagram and credits him for taking it, he thinks that actions speak louder than words and that this might be Liam’s way of telling him something. Later still, when Liam presses a quick kiss to his cheek on their way back, something like certainty settles slowly in his chest.

 

All that’s left to do when they return is film a couple of short videos, talk a bit about the song and working together. It takes them longer than it should since they can’t stop laughing every time they make eye contact, but Anton is way past the point of caring that he shouldn’t smile or look at Liam as fondly as he does, and Liam starts giggling like he just can’t help it whenever he notices. The one time they manage to keep a straight face, Anton makes the mistake of turning his head to find Liam already looking at him, eyes bright and warm, and he forgets what he’s supposed to say, dumbstruck, mind suddenly a completely blank page. But Liam takes over seamlessly, as if completing each other’s sentences in interviews is something they’ve been doing for years, and it works. It’s good enough, they’re told; even the sun going down behind them apparently looks idyllic or something, so they don’t need another take. Anton spends a couple of minutes silently contemplating the fact that him forgetting to speak when he looks at Liam is now a moment forever immortalized on camera. He tells himself it could have been worse.

 

Since they’re running behind schedule a little and the sun is already setting, they’re allowed to shoot the last video inside the villa. The white leather couch they’re sitting on is comfortable and spacious, the kind that’s perfect for a lazy nap on rainy afternoons. Anton is tempted to lean back and just close his eyes for a second or two; he thinks he might be more exhausted than he’d like to admit. Liam is leaning against him without any trace of subtlety, sides and thighs pressed together, and even he seems to have run out of energy, blinking rapidly, drowsy like he could fall asleep there and then. The next second, unexpectedly, he rests his head on Anton’s shoulder, letting out a content little sigh, fingers dancing on the inside of Anton’s forearm.

 

And Anton can’t keep quiet anymore. It isn’t fair to Liam to have these expectations of him, to wait for him to take a risk and dive in first when Anton knows he could easily do that himself, when he’s just as responsible for everything left unsaid between them. They’ve been on the edge of something for too long, not daring to tip the balance because – he doesn’t even know anymore. He’s tired of pretending he doesn’t understand why Liam acts around him the way he does, playing with fire and pushing the limits like he wants to get caught. They’re both adults, he tells himself, somewhere between wild panic and calm acceptance, but he is older. He needs to start acting like it.

 

“Remember when I told you I had the lyrics all written and everything?” he asks between takes, keeping his voice low. There are too many people around. Not that it matters, he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have dared to do more than whisper the words anyway.

 

Liam gives a tiny nod, his head barely moving on Anton’s shoulder. “Mhm. Why?”

 

“I lied.”

 

What he expects is for Liam to pull away. To give him a confused look. Maybe get a little angry, be hurt by the confession, because lying to each other isn’t something they do. He deserves to have Liam be mad at him, he knows. It’s not like he would have anyone but himself to blame.

 

What he gets instead is a Liam who starts chuckling and covers his face with both hands until the laughter turns to soft giggles. And that – that doesn’t make any sense.

 

After the giggling subsides too, Liam looks up and, with a half-smile on the corner his mouth, says, “Kinda figured that.” Rolling his eyes when he notices Anton’s baffled expression, he pokes him in the thigh and begins to explain. “Come on man, you kept telling me about every little change you were making to the melody, did you really expect me to believe you wrote all the lyrics without mentioning a single thing to me? I stopped asking because I didn’t want to push. Figured you’d tell me what was happening when you felt the time was right.” He shrugs.

 

All Anton can do is blink at him slowly. Stupidly. He feels like an idiot. This isn’t about underestimating Liam – he doubts he could ever do that. It isn’t about pretending he could be a great liar, either. And for all he’d tried not to dwell on it too much, he’d always known how closely Liam was paying attention to him. But this – this is different. This is about Liam piecing together clues Anton wasn’t even aware that he’d been carelessly laying around. It’s about Liam reading him so easily, as if he was always one page ahead, one step ahead, waiting for Anton to catch up. He thinks he finally has.

 

“Okay. Fair enough,” he says in the end, voice small and unsteady. It really is the worst time to have this conversation. But then again, it was never the right time, not to him, and he knows that if he doesn’t say it now, he never will. “You do – ” He clears his throat, glancing at Liam to find big brown eyes already looking at him. “You know why I didn’t tell you the truth, don’t you?”

 

Liam lowers his gaze, biting his bottom lip around a grin that spells trouble. He shrugs again. “I think I do now.” He lifts his head then, letting the grin grow wider. His lips are very pink and very dangerous. “But I wouldn’t mind if you told me what was going on.”

 

And of course Liam could smirk like that, confident and pleased, and be shy about it at the same time, cheeks turning a more obvious rosy shade with every passing second. Of course he could, of course he does.

 

Helpless, Anton smiles back, like he always does when he sees Liam’s lips curved that way, happy and inviting and full of promises. He feels teenage and brand new, warmth spreading from a fragile point inside his ribcage to his fingertips.

 

“I literally stopped talking when you looked at me earlier today because I couldn’t remember how to form words,” he says, letting his knuckles brush over the back of Liam’s hand. “What do you think is going on.”

 

Liam looks at him for a long moment, serious and intense, teeth worrying his bottom lip. He nods then out of the blue, like he’s been having a conversation with himself and he’s finally reached a conclusion, and says, “When we go back tonight, you should come to my place. I mean, if you want.” His eyes widen all of a sudden, like he’s only now realizing he gave those words permission to slip out of his mouth.

 

Anton has never wanted to lean in and kiss him more than he does right now. He bites the inside of his cheek, trying to control the giant grin that’s threatening to take over his face, reminding himself that they aren’t alone, that he isn’t completely reckless. So he does the only thing he can while the world continues to spin around them without knowing that everything has changed. He nods.

 

“Okay.”

 

/ / /

 

He wakes up when it’s still dark outside, the night a velvety blue. A blurry thought about why the hell he went to bed without changing his clothes creeps into his mind before his eyes start adjusting to the gentle darkness of the room, and then it hits him. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but now Liam’s arm is around his waist, chest against his back, warm puffs of air tickling the back and side of his neck every time Liam breathes out. If that makes him hide a smile in the pillow, no one has to know.

 

He can make out the outline of his phone on the nightstand, reaches out because he feels warm and dizzy with emotions he can’t sort out when he’s fully awake, let alone now, and he needs a bit of certainty, even if only in the form of numbers on a screen. He tries not to shift too much, doesn’t want to wake Liam up too, but that doesn’t exactly work out like he was hoping since Liam makes a sound of disapproval when his arm slips down a little.

 

“Just wanted to see what time it is,” Anton explains, voice hoarse from sleep, but he’s still smiling. He hopes Liam can hear that.

 

“Early. Too early. We still have time,” Liam replies, firmly, lips brushing the back of Anton’s neck, arm tightening around his waist like he’s intent on making a point. Then, sounding more awake but also suddenly hesitant, he adds, “I mean, unless you want to leave.”

 

And that – no. They’re not doing this again, Anton thinks, the doubts he can hear in Liam’s voice hurting like a sharp stab between his ribs. He turns on his other side, eyes running over Liam’s face, searching. There is still so much they have yet to talk about, things he doesn’t fully understand, a past that left Liam scarred, the marks visible when he takes off the armor that makes him seem strong and undamaged. But yes, he thinks, Liam is right – they still have time.

 

With his heart beating in a rhythm that is at once restless and settled, Anton leans forward, presses a slow, unhurried kiss to Liam’s lips. Feels him start to smile. Watches Liam open his eyes when he pulls away, the smile staying in place as he lets his knuckles brush over Liam’s cheek. He looks so young, wide-eyed and completely at ease as they’re sharing air, lips barely touching. He doesn’t just look it, he still is so young, Anton reminds himself. Because despite everything he’s been through so far, Liam still has so much to learn, so many new experiences coming his way. He’ll change and grow and become even more beautiful, inside and out, and _god_ , Anton wants to be by his side and see it all happen if Liam will let him.

 

He wraps an arm around Liam’s waist, fingers tracing patterns on his back, and looks into Liam’s eyes until he feels the warmth in them give him the courage he needs to voice out the words waiting to burst out of him. He smiles.

 

“I’m not going anywhere.”

 


End file.
